Silent Hill: Fabled Future
by Logophile87
Summary: The evil in Silent Hill is not relegated only to Silent Hill itself...


(Disclaimer: I do not own Silent Hill or its characters. All rights to Silent Hill go to its creators. This is not one of my favorite fan fictions, but it took a lot of time and I think its got a good idea behind it. I had this one up once on the site, but have tinkered with a few things to make it much better.)

1

_In my deepest sleep I see a town. It is a foggy and murky place, but this doesn't disturb me. It's the other things that haunt me. I fear the blood soaked earth and the frozen screams in the wood, plaster, and glass of that town. I loathe the tatters of cloth that wave in the wind to the ghosts and monsters there_. _I am wary of this town's foundations. They are bone and misery and blood and rot. _

_Sometimes I'm afraid that God has given up on us all._

Dolores Halifax was a healthy and vivacious woman of 70 years. The strength of her body was matched only by the quality of her storytelling, and the tinkling of her laugh was overcome only by the brightness of her eyes. She still gardened and hiked in the mountains, still bounced babies on her knee and spit as far as any sailor. Many years past, she claimed that she rode with Jesse James and once she scared a burglar off with only her bare hands. From her pursed, round mouth came stories of ghosts and goblins, but she would curse and dismiss them without a care. So imagine my surprise when she died tucked into her bed, hair stark white and her eyes wide with terror. My grandmother had died of fright.

There had been no signs of forced entry or any foul play. She'd just died afraid. Afraid of what? I had no clue. All I wanted to do with the whole ordeal was retrieve an old ring I'd left in her attic, a gift from a kindergarten boyfriend. He'd stolen the ring from his mother, but that hadn't bothered me in the least. I wanted to see it again, but I did not want to see that old house for sure. It was haunted and I was afraid that the wrath of the phantom my grandmother had angered would fall on me.

My name is Lilla Burke and this is my story. It's one that unfolded after my grandmother's death and I was forced to spend some time in her home, packing away belongings and taking care of her financial matters. While there something happened to me. I'm in Silent Hill now, never to leave. I was never really anywhere else, but the mind is an organ of power and it creates what it needs to believe. Now I'm somewhere dark... And so cold.

2

I grabbed the phone on its third ring and rolled my eyes at the familiar, nasal voice of my mother. I was lost as to why she insisted on calling me every day and what seemed every hour. "Have you made a proper inventory of your grandmother's things, Lilla? I don't want a thing left behind in that ghastly house when you leave, especially any of her hidden baubles or antique china. Search high and low. Leave no nook unexplored. None of her nosey old hens have been bothering you, have they?"

By that I assumed she meant grandma's church ladies, but oddly enough none had shown up. Not that I was upset by that either, but it seemed somehow disrespectful and rude. "Yes, of course, yes. Naw, I haven't seen one since I've been here. Not even the postman has been through. Did you already contact them? Wow, that's weird. Maybe one of her neighbors told him. Whatever. Ok, ok, bye!" I slammed the phone down in the cradle and turned and made my way back to the boxes of china I was loading up.

I slid another dainty, priceless dish into its soft place in a box and then another. I rose to stretch and yawn, looking around the darkening room. It was eerie in this place, alone in this dead witch's home, and packing away her things. Yes, my grandmother was a witch and I was sure that she had brought her death down upon her own head. As a child I had watched her scry, chant, and nourish her herb garden with a mixture she called "Devil's Dust."Her witchcraft was practiced in absolute secret. What would the church think of a woman who practiced such devilry? To tell the truth I don't know why she practiced any of it and still attended church and called herself a Christian, but she did. My grandmother was odd.

_Lilla._ I started at the whispering of my name and leapt to my feet. It was now dark outside, but an old oil lamp burned and cast shifting shadows across my surroundings. A shiver of pure fear ran through me and I hugged my arms. I could see nothing, just the handsomely furnished parlor and the empty doorway leading to the hall. _This house is cursed_, I thought to myself. I wanted out as soon as possible, but I dropped back down to my knees to finish my work. _Mom kill_.

This time I yelped and leapt back into a chair as a gust of rank, icy cool air surged through the room and the sound of a door slammed upstairs. _Oh my God_. _Oh my God. Oh my God. _I closed my eyes as tightly as possible, but still I felt tears squeezing hotly out of them and down my cheeks. _Lilla... Upstairs. Go see._ I couldn't go upstairs, I just couldn't! I was terrified and I didn't want to be here in the first place! I slid down to the floor between the armchair and the fireplace, and curled into a tight ball.

3

_Bright, painful light. _I squinted and blinked rapidly against the bright afternoon light that filtered in through the parlor windows. My body felt cramped and uncomfortable in the curled position and I stretched my legs out in front of me and yawned. What an odd dream!

I rose slowly, glad to see the day. The house was dead silent and I could hear no activity from outside, either. I stretch again and turn to look down at the boxes of china. I'd made a lot of progress last night and I needed to finish, but right now I needed some breakfast and a shower. The events of late last night felt like things that had happened millions of years ago. Right now I felt better, but something still felt a bit off and my feet felt unsteady as I grabbed my car keys and went off in search of breakfast.

I unlocked the front door and walked slowly down the stone steps, glancing around me. The air felt thicker and I was slightly overcome by some nausea, but sometimes I felt that way when I was hungry. The yard, the street, the other houses were all silent as the tomb. There were no sounds of children playing, or dogs barking, no wind, no cars honking. _Huh? That's weird, _I thought. I stopped and looked around me at the other houses. They looked horribly shabby, totally unlike the manicured, pampered Victorians I'd seen on my arrival yesterday morning. Shutters were either crooked or missing. The flowers were all dead and black, like twisted arms reaching out of the ground. Some of the windows were missing.

What happened? Maybe I hadn't seen them as they really were yesterday. What else could have accounted for it? I reached my car and bent to unlock the door. _BAM! _Something slammed into the other side of my car and I yelped in surprise. I was feeling very nervous by now. I crept along the side of the car and stopped in my tracks. A large, black stroller lay on its side beside my car, wheels turning lazily. _Oh no! Please let there be nothing in it! Shit! _I leapt down beside it. I sighed in relief as I saw it was empty, but my relief quickly turned to horror as I realized the name stitched on the stroller: Lilla.

I shook my head and screamed, leaping up to my feet and running back for the house. I slammed the door behind me and locked it, turning to look out the small peephole. Something slowly pulled the stroller out of view on the other side of the car and I threw my hand over my mouth in disbelief. I collapsed as a vision hit me.

"_If that Mockingbird don't sing, momma's gonna buy you a diamond ring..." My mother rocks gently back and forth in a chair, hand resting over her very pregnant tummy. She smiles down at me, deep in her womb, and the lights go out. A piercing scream cuts through the silence and I know nothing but darkness._

4

In Silent Hill. Down a dark street. Up a leaf strewn walk to a front door. Inside and up the decaying wood steps and floorboards. In a lonely, pink room. Past the scruffy, forsaken bears and the packs of mottled pampers. An empty crib. A pink ruffled crib. Never used. A name is stitched in the fabric in big, bold pink letters: _Lilla_

Glance around the room and the name is everywhere. It is stenciled on the baby dresser and the changing table. It is even on the wallpaper. Look in the picture frames and see not a baby, but a pregnant woman with a happy smile. Her hand rests on her swollen stomach.

And in the chair where the woman sat and dreamt of her upcoming daughter, a baby named Lilla, is a large, deep red stain...

THE END


End file.
